Someone to help me write this. I have it all laid out in my head, but no takers. It is sci-fi in the not to far in the distant timeframe and will involve (ultimately) the overthrow of a corrupt system.
YC
xxx yyy was 25 and alone. In another time, it would be strange for a girl of her age and looks to be single, but in the Conglomerate, it made perfect sense. Young married couples were often a law to themselves. Romance tended to be put first, before the interests of the Conglomerate. And that was unacceptable. So relationships were carefully managed through both law and social norms created to control. Drugs and the fantasy pods replaced the hole that a life partner was supposed to fill. Sex was welcome, so long as it was casual and never became anything deeper and more meaningful. The drugs and life pod was easier to deal with anyways.
And MC
The first thing they taught Vic in Prole school was that "Prole's always belong outside the biodome, it is to pay for their sins." Rule #2 was that "Proles nor the second class are allowed to vote, the second class are not of pure heritage and the proles have to pay for their sins."
The school was set up by two first class nuns. Their faces oozed patronage and they barely taught you to read or write. In year two (second grade), Vic had shown an aptitude for "computer science", but he was a prole. Sometime they brought him out when the benefactors showed up, like a trained monkey, he would code and hack and after year 7, he was not allowed near the computer anymore.
So he dropped out.
Soon he was dealing drugs and making runs far beyond the desert to procure a cactus. He would grind it up, melt it, heat it, cold chill it and he always served it pure.
That was until a first -lass addict ratted him out. The first class couldn't be "addicted, it had to be Vic."
He got 4 years on a penal colony mining ore.
He hated it. Hated the violence. Hated the way the guards beat you if you looked at them wrong. Hated the lack of books.
But most of all he hated the first class.
After three years, his body grew hard. Not the type of hard you get in the gym, but a cruel kind of hard. The kind that could bend steel and the kind that controlled those around him. Good behavior for him out in 3 years, 10 months and 11 days.
He took the tattoo of the prisoner. A simple justice tattoo with the scales in balance that spread in brilliant ink along his back and went back to Proleville.
He stood 6'1" and 180 pounds. Not an inch of fat on him. He had no markings other than his penal tattoo that he kept hidden and he went back to make runs far beyond the desert.
He got a job in the pods. It was mostly where the first class and two weekends a year the second class came to "vacation".